


How to make an impression

by AnnieVH



Series: SwanFire High School AU [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Fluf, Swanfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6732064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal dries himself in Emma's kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to make an impression

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: still very much anti-Hook.  
> Beta: Maddiebonanafana

Overall, the result was humiliating. The music had been more of a nuisance than a nice touch, he'd been attacked by sprinklers, the boombox he'd stolen from his father's shop was permanently ruined, and he was currently sitting in Emma's kitchen, covered in towels while she prepared him a cup of tea. Oh yes, and dad was coming.

“There you go,” Emma said, placing a cup and saucer in front of him. “Hot green tea, just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, Em.”

Mary Margaret came back and smiled at him. David didn't show his face in the kitchen, probably because he was still on the phone with his dad, retelling his stupidity in great detail. But at least Emma's mom didn't seem upset. When he apologized for waking her up, she even remarked, “It was for a good cause, I think.”

“I put your shoes over the heater,” she told him. “They'll be dry by the time you dad gets here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nolan.”

“He said he's on his way.”

“...Great.”

Neal eyed the boombox, currently dipped inside a large bowl of rice. Large if you were going to eat it, that is. If you were going to shove a boombox inside of it, you'd barely be able to cover the tip of one speaker, leaving the rest to drip water on your girlfriend's parents' recently polished wooden table.

“Dad is going to kill me,” Neal muttered.

“Mom, why don't you go get us a hairdryer? That could help.”

Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes at her daughter's innocent face. Emma shrugged, as if to say, “Mom, I only want to help, this is not a plan to be alone with a guy I've made out with in the past. Four times.”

“I'll go get the dryer,” her mother said.

“Thanks, mom.”

“But the kitchen door is staying open.”

“ _Okay_ , mom.”

When she left, Emma told him, “Sorry about that.”

“It's fine.”

“And sorry about dad and the sprinklers.”

Neal laughed. “Hey, your dad's a deputy. I should be thankful he only used water. That was a shotgun I saw hanging on the wall, wasn't it?”

“He hardly ever uses it.”

“I'm pretty sure my dad will not show such restraint once he gets here.”

“Well, some day, we'll all have a good laugh about this.”

Neal sipped his tea, melancholic. He didn't know about that. Not only because Mr. Gold and “a good laugh” hardly ever went together in the same sentence, but because he couldn't think of a worse way for his father to find out he had borrowed an item from his shop without his permission. And then made a little scandal in the middle of the night just to impress a girl.

“So, you were saying something,” Emma told him, dropping her voice to a whisper. She wouldn't put it beyond her father to be standing just outside the door, listening in. “Before the sprinklers.”

“I... was,” Neal replied, cautious.

“Well, I couldn't hear it.”

“That's because the boombox was too loud.”

“Yes, but since the boombox is now chilling in a bowl of rice...”

“Right. Uhn...” Neal tried to recover his train of thought. He'd had a whole speech, carefully rehearsed in front of the mirror and everything. But it was hard to sound confident and cool when you're covered in fluffy towels. “Uhn, I was going to ask... if you want to come to the prom. With me.”

“You needed a boombox to ask me that?” she said, unable to repress a little smile.

“I wanted to make an impression.”

“...You definitely made one.”

“And besides,” he admitted, begrudgingly, “I heard that Killian sent you roses.”

“He did. A dozen of them.”

“Well, I had to beat _that.”_

“I don't know how you could,” Emma said. “I had so much fun throwing them in the garbage disposal.”

“Oh,” Neal said, lighting up a bit. “I didn't know that.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

They went quiet.

Neal sipped his tea, smiling from ear to ear.

Emma said, “You're an idiot.”

He nodded. “I can't argue with that.” He sipped again, his smile turning cocky. “I guess you're going to prom with an idiot, then.”

Emma grabbed the towel around his neck and used it to ruffle his wet hair. “He's a really cute idiot.”

“Hey, knock it off!” he laughed, thinking if he could just reach out and kiss her without angering her father, who was probably lurking in the shadows with that shotgun.

Unfortunately for him, the next person to come into the kitchen was not Emma's dad – it was his. And he did not look happy.

Emma immediately let go of the towel and sat back. Neal shot to his feet. “Hey! Dad!”

Mr. Gold stared at him, looking more furious than he'd ever seen him. Given that his father was known for his terrible mood, that was saying something. It didn't get any better when his eyes fell on the boombox, tipped inside a rice bowl and with no chance of surviving.

Neal started saying, “Uhn, I can explain-”

“No,” his father cut in. “You're not explaining anything. You're taking that-” he pointed at the boombox, “and you're getting in the car before I lose my temper.”

“Okay, uhn...” He eyed Emma. “Could I just have a minute to-”

“ _Now_ , Baelfire.”

First name. Full first name. Neal was really in trouble.

He reached for the boombox and, in his hurry, knocked the bowl to the floor, scattering rice all over the kitchen. The night couldn't possibly get any worse. His father seemed ready to explode.

Emma came to his rescue. “You just go, I'll clean everything.”

“No, I can help-”

Mr. Gold huffed, “For goodness' sake,” and took him by the arm. Over his shoulder, he wished Emma a very cold, “Goodnight, Miss Nolan.”

As he was dragged away, Neal couldn't do much more than wave goodbye.

 


End file.
